Murder mysteries and the Mystery

I am a murder mystery addict. As far as I know there is no twelve step program for murder mystery addicts so we learn coping mechanisms on our own. Second hand bookstores help us keep our reading on a budget by providing a place to recycle and renew our stash. Libraries are our home away from home. Reading murder mysteries has evolved into a spiritual practice for me. I know many of you are scratching your heads wondering how this can be... murder and mayhem a spiritual practice? Here is how it works for me.
Every mystery contains darkness, evil, sin. I am confronted with the age old conundrum of our inhumanity towards each other, the dark beast that lurks under our surface. If I am honest with myself, I am a murderer, a killer. Sometimes I am a passive killer who just turns my back on life and my call to live as a Christian bringing new life to my little piece of the world. Or I might kill with my sharp tongue, my impatience with those who are not like me, my need to be in charge that smothers the spirit of others. There are many ways I can kill heart, mind and spirit in others as well as myself. Like the killers in my mysteries, I can be a life draining force.
Murder mysteries offer resolution, salvation of sorts, when the puzzle is solved, the killer identified and justice is served. The end of the book provides all the clues that lead to the solution. My life and its problem puzzles seldom are so neatly packaged. When I find myself lost in the maze of draining depression, suppressed rage or loss of meaning, it is not easy to find the clues that will lead me back to my whole self. And, there is no handy detective leaning over my shoulder whispering in my ear suggesting what to do or where to look. Then I need God and God’s faces in the world to help solve my own mystery of the moment.
A series of mysteries written by Peter Tremayne has Celtic religion in ancient Ireland as the setting with Sister Fidelma as the heroine. Through these books, I have become acquainted with Christianity as practiced many years ago in a tradition separate from the Roman tradition. The culture and faith, closely connected to the earth, honored women and men, allowed each to excel and was not patriarchal. My curiosity was piqued and I have been exploring this faith world both ancient and modern. Like all faith systems, there is an orthodox tradition that claims the “right worship” and a new age pattern that is only loosely connected to the beginnings of Celtic faith. I find myself on a journey looking for clues to a faith that is a part of my father’s family heritage.
In the middle of all the mish mash of Celtic orthodoxy and new age Celtic loosey goosey, I see little glimmers, like the iridescent trail left by a snail crawling on the ground. As I read, sit with the words, contemplate the mystery of this tradition and what it has to teach me, I remember the joy of my salvation and feel drawn to this way of knowing God. The words and melody of one of my favorite hymns surface and I remember it is an old Irish hymn. Translated in the eighteen hundreds, set to a traditional Irish melody, it has been a part of my faith sound track for years. It is my prayer for today. In one of life’s little miracles, the hymn begins to play on my radio as I write these words. The singer, with Irish bagpipes and drums, sings in English and Gaelic, and I feel a stirring in my soul as I search for the Heart of mine own heart.
“Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart; naught be all else to me save that Thou art; Thou my best thought by day or by night, waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light. Be Thou my wisdom and Thou my true word; I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord; Thou my great father and I Thy true son, Thou in me dwelling and I with Thee one. Riches I heed not or man’s empty praise, Thou mine inheritance now and always; Thou and Thou only first in my heart, High King of Heaven, my treasure Thou art. High King of Heaven, my victory won, May I reach heaven’s joys, O bright heaven’s Sun! Heart of my own heart, whatever befall, still be my vision, O Ruler of all.”